Let Go
by Dark Glass Marionette
Summary: He was at his mercy, under his control.  How long until Chris is the one to break completely?


**Author's Note: **Okay, another eenie meenie oneshot... or maybe not. This is a small 'bridge fic' between DoU and the sequel; it's got nothing to do with them, but it's whilst I write the sequel. I may leave this as a oneshot, though I have the intention of making it a full-fledged fic. The length is unknown so far. But anyway, it's kinda AU: it's post-RE5 and... yes, you know what's happening. Get on with the read and you'll find out, xDD

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters.**

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**Let Go  
**_A Resident Evil fic._

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I

Phobos

He woke as if drawn from bed, only this time even breathing was painful. The pain forced a cough out of his lungs, raising flames to his raw throat and sending ripples of them through him. Groggy and dazed, Chris opened his eyes, darkness greeting him into a world he didn't yet neither see or understand. Little by little, he tried to move but the soft rattle of chains stopped him from doing so: his hands had been chained over his head, hence the terrible feeling on his shoulders that he soon noticed. He took a deep breath, felt around for something, _anything_, but there was nothing save for the cool iron that kept him captive. He rattled the chains out of instinct, somehow attempting to call the attention of whoever was there... _if_ there was anybody. When his call was met with silence, he let his head hang in defeat.

Chris tried to remember how he'd gotten there, _what_ had gotten him there, but to no avail. Nothing would come to his mind: no images, no voices... nothing at all. Silence was his only companion so far, one that did nothing to palliate his despair and increasing uneasiness. His wrists were raw, the chains digging into his flesh like thousands of teeth gnawing hungrily at it, his shoulders were sore and hurt like a bitch. His knees were up to his chest, one touching the other, which left his legs in a very awkward and uncomfortable position. Numb; he couldn't even feel them. He made no fuss when he tasted blood in his tongue, some more of it caked on the right side of his face. It was useless to try, especially with drugged legs and chained hands.

After an unknown period of time, the door creaked open and closed, footsteps clearly audible above the noise. Chris recognized them as coming from boots; whoever was there wasn't another somebody. A cold shiver ran down his spine, making him realize he was shirtless, the pain of his many bruises returning. He was tempted to ask and be answered, but his mouth felt so dry no words came out, his hopes low.

But then, everything changed.

The fragrance that reached his nose was, though faint, easily recognizable; Chris was wise enough not to jump to conclusions, though. His heartbeat sped up, adrenaline coursing through him in pure gushes so strong they made him nauseous; the hunch he was having felt like a hand clutching at his heart and chest. He heard the rustle of clothes next to him, very faint, then nothing was what it was.

"Fancy any other service?"

The voice was velvety, calm, cruel, cold beyond comparison: unmistakable. A yank at his hair. "You refuse to look at me? That's rude of you, Chris."

Silence was all Chris replied with, which was met with an amused chuckle. With what felt like several knots on his stomach, each one stronger than the other, Chris feared the worst would greet him shortly; in fact, now: a hand traveled to the back of his shoulder, then dealt a blow that tore a yell from his throat, all dryness gone and more than forgotten. He had the certainty it had been dislocated but his own screams muted even his thoughts. The pain didn't subside; his screams did as he gradually controlled himself.

"We're getting somewhere, aren't we?"

Tears pricked at his eyes; despite that, he remained unwavering towards Wesker's taunts. "Looks like it. It reminds me of what I did to _her_."

Chris' blood froze in his veins as the realization hit him hard. "If you've touched her, I'll-"

"You'll **WHAT!**" came Wesker's furious yell along with a fierce kick to his stomach. Blood spewed from Chris' lips as the strength of the blow shook his entire body. He didn't know what hurt the most: the kick or his broken soul. "What will you do? Say something that actually rattles me!" A pause, painful. "Your words are hollow, meaningless to me!"

"What do you want from me?" growled Chris between pants. Wesker never replied as immediately as he had expected, instead deciding to circle him like a predator. Chris couldn't help feeling hopeless this time, but there was also disgust. The air was polluted with his enemy's presence, obnoxious and overwhelming.

"Threats are useless if there's a lack of means, Chris," Wesker then told him pointedly. The words even sounded unnatural. "Jill should've known that, too. Pity..."

"What have you done to her, dammit?" Chris finally bellowed, breaking the following silence with the rattle of his chains. Suddenly, he was blinded by light, then had his hair yanked at once more.

"You can't imagine what I did," Wesker replied, close to his ear. He tried to turn away, but the grip on his hair would only tighten further. "She called for you, you know? She begged for mercy, dear Jill. After I broke her down, I doubted she'd stand anything else."

Despite himself, Chris allowed his tears to flow. "That's not true... She wouldn't do that..." Wesker let go, pacing away from him. "Why...?"

Chris lifted his gaze, which was met by Wesker's hidden one. "Because she asked me to kill her and I obviously agreed; how could I reject her offer? After all, all she wanted it was for everything to end. I only complied with her wish."

Wesker's tone was flat, cruelly indifferent, which set Chris' rage ablaze. "You're lying!" he exclaimed, his voice hoarse. "She was strong, even stronger than you could ever be!"

Wesker chuckled. "She was more broken than she let on," he said. "Her fear of me was unnaturally dominant in her. In the end, all that was left was putting a stop to her suffering. No matter the strength, the mind will eventually break, and I myself achieved that feat with her. I _broke_ hers, shattered it to pieces. It couldn't be fixed."

Chris gaped at him for a moment before recovering his wits. "You son of a bitch! She was about to start again!"

"Ah-ah, no need to get harsh; it's a merely objective observation."

Chris sighed in defeat, diverting his gaze to the floor. How could Wesker still be alive escaped him, considering he himself and Jill had finished him off for the last time in Africa. And now, right before Jill was indeed ready to face the world again and they could've started a life together, she had suffered a fate worse than death. He didn't even know how long he'd been there -weeks? Months?-; he hadn't been able to protect her. Just when his life had turned for the better, his past was haunting him in the most dreadful of forms.

Eventually, he asked with a thin voice, "What's gonna happen to me now? Why... why are you keeping me here?" Trying to keep his voice from trembling was the hardest thing. "What do you want from me?" He looked up at Wesker, frowning, and saw what surprised him the most: it seemed that Wesker didn't even know how to answer. But when he did, all of his hopes were shattered.

"Well, considering you're under my control now, I suppose I can do whatever I please with you," he said, smirking. "For starters, I'll have your wounds tended to."

Despite the fact being shocking by itself, Chris ignored it. "What for? Why don't you kill me already?"

An amused laugh came, an unusual gesture for someone like Wesker. "I would've killed you _long_ ago if that had been my wish. But do amuse me: are you really giving up your life so easily? You're really handing it to me on a platter?"

"You didn't do everything you did just to take care of me now, did you?" Chris scoffed, derisive. "Finish it already, come on!" The chains clinked together, setting his uneasiness on a roller-coaster. The most curious thing was that no matter the angle, Wesker's eyes were always somehow visible, nothing that helped Chris' thoughts stop their chaotic roam throughout his head.

"I won't do it myself." Chris' mouth formed an 'o'. Wesker shrugged. "Sure, I've been to hell and back to keep you here, but... I'd prefer you do it. I don't need to get my hands dirty."

"Heh, there goes something... What about the other times, huh? You just went clean, right?"

"I'm afraid you misunderstood me," Wesker countered with a smile. "Some other times I didn't address the matter directly, that much is true. What I meant is that I'll leave the task up to _you_."

"So you're just going to make me kill myself?" Chris inquired, grabbing hold of the chains and pulling himself up to his feet as fast as his legs -and injured arm- allowed him. "Is that what you want?"

This time, Wesker took a few steps towards him. "At all. You see... this time, nobody is coming to get you. Just because of that simple fact, I'm going to watch you break down like Jill did, though you're going to be a lot easier." He pursed his lips. "Of course, I may be underestimating you but I think otherwise. You'll sink soon."

"You don't know me."

"Correction: I know you _perfectly_. Do you think that all the time I stayed away from you and Jill was for mere play?" Wesker inquired. "I'm not stupid; don't make me think _you _are."

"So that's it?" Chris shot back. "That's how you're going to finish me off? I thought you were sensible enough to do it quick."

"No, no. _I_ won't be the one to finish you off, put you out of your misery. As I said, it's going to be you, Chris, but in a very special way."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Enlighten me."

Wesker nodded, initially lenient. "Time will make you crack, not me." Another pause. "Tell me... When loneliness and silence are you only companions, what do you do?" It was a question that startled Chris in a way; because of that, he kept listening. "If you had someone, you'd palliate them with that person, wouldn't you? But now, it's different. How to remedy it, I wonder?"

Chris frowned, attempting to keep his face out of sight. He immediately thought about Jill, the image of her smile coming back to him. There was also Claire for him... who knew where she was.

"What is this? Some kind of- dammit," he cursed, jerking his face away.

"You also have some time to reflect," Wesker piped up, calm. "You and I have some things in common."

"I'm not like you at all," Chris immediately replied, getting the chills at the thought.

"Oh, but you are. One thing is being, the other one is to _reject being_. I suppose you get my meaning?" Wesker said, his tone changing. "There is a slight difference in the most basic of our similarities."

"And that is?"

"We both look for power. I accept it, whilst you _reject _it." Chris was quick to frown at him. "Admit it, Chris: if it wasn't because black and white exist for you, you would've turned like me a long time ago. How many times have you wished you were stronger, hm? I'd reckon a few."

"That's completely different," Chris replied. "Look at yourself if you want proof."

Another chuckle came. "Well, it's possible that power corrupts man... but I find it extremely useful, not to mention sweet. If you had it, you would've already left this room, left me unconscious."

Chris couldn't help but agree, something he chastised and beat himself up for. Then, a question came to his mind, one he didn't felt himself asking. "Why would you help me recover?" Wesker turned to him. "Is it for you to enjoy my pain a lot more? Be honest, although I think that doesn't sit well with you."

"On the contrary, I tend to be honest most of the time," Wesker countered, amused. "But enjoyment isn't the reason behind my... hm, consider it hospitality. After I brought you here, I met up with you sister."

"What?"

"Mhm-hm." A pause; he started to pace again. "She knows where you are, she knows you're with me and she's not going to attempt to come. I made a promise, she made one too; quid pro quo."

Chris refused to believe it: Claire, negotiating with Wesker? "I don't suppose it was voluntary."

"You do well in suspecting that. Whilst I promised I wouldn't touch you -hence the special method-," he added that with a tinge of dark humor, "she promised she wouldn't tell anyone about your disappearance. Officially, you were killed in action."

It was either putting your hand upon the fire or the ice: there was no way around it. Whether it was because of death or Claire's promise, Chris was already a forgotten face to the world. It was true: nobody was going to get him.

"You can be at ease," Wesker told him, bringing him back to dismal reality. He walked to the door, opening it slightly before saying, "I'll put you up to an initial test: I left the key for the chains in one of your pockets. If you're smart and skillful enough, you'll get it in no time. After that, rest for as long as you can."

Ignoring the matter with the key, Chris asked, "How do you know you're not lying?"

The question earned him a small smile. "You'll know because of two things. One, the key rattles a bit. And two, I am a man of my word, after all. You should be aware of that."

Then, darkness came again. Wesker's departure was the start of everything.

Time was ruthless, and the hands had already started to turn.

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_A/N: How was that for a start? It's going to get worse from here on; not too much, but enough for it to be in the psychological genre. So the foundations are set, now it's building the story. I'll be the next chap asap._

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_

_PS: Any formatting problems or anything, tell me in a review. FF is being stupid xD_


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